


The Deep End

by starksborn



Series: Quicksand [2]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gratuitous Smut, Other, Scummy AU, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 10:37:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5783095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksborn/pseuds/starksborn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Boss swore what happened between them and Killbane wouldn't continue. They swear it again when they find themself back in his bed, and the third time? The third time, they just stop fighting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Deep End

**Author's Note:**

> I meant to have this out a lot sooner, but u know how it goes. Also since I wrote the last one I started watching wrestling again and let me tell u buddy if u don't think Killbane utilizes certain wrestling holds and moves for optimum use in the bedroom u are mistaken.

  
_I sold my soul to a three-piece_  
_And he told me I was holy_  
_He's got me down on both knees_  
_But it's the devil that's tryna_  
_Hold me down._

_\------------------------------------------------------------------_

The Boss isn't one for keeping secrets, at least not from the Saints. For a long time, the Saints have been the only people they _can_ be honest with. Part of the key to being as well liked as a gang leader as they've become is being open with your crew. They've never been big on handing out information on an 'as needed' basis. If something is going down, everyone is going to know. If one person is out of the loop, that makes that person a loose end and a weak point and jeopardizes the entire operation, and that makes everything _sloppy_. The Boss may be a lot of things, but _sloppy_ isn't one of them. 

Their honesty with their people is exactly why keeping a lid on what happened between them and Killbane during their last drunken stupor has been eating at them. They're not so much worried about anyone _finding out_ , they figure if anyone knew about the tryst between the two people publicly warring with each other in streets it'd have been all over the news twice over by now. No, it's the simple fact that they're _hiding it_ from their people that's bothering them. That, and the fact they let themself fall for whatever tricks Killbane had been playing on them.

Though, there's still a part of their mind that keeps flashing back to it. Despite how almost _guilty_ they feel about it, they can't say they _regret_ it.

The situation between the Steelport gangs continues as it had been, with Saints taking the city at a slow, even pace. The Boss is content to take it block by block and corner by corner rather than just fling people all over, and they're starting to catch flack for their slow and steady approach rather than going in hard and heavy. Some people keep comparing the current situation to the retaking of Stilwater, and it doesn't matter how many times the Boss tells them it's not the same. Stilwater was a known factor, it was _familiar_ and the Boss knew how to work the city. Steelport is new territory and running in blind and _dumb_ is the best way to come out on the losing end of a city takeover.

They can't help but view the dissension about their strategy as fractures in the very base of the Saints foundation. It's a series of fine running cracks that have been there since the gang lost Johnny, and without him around, the Boss worries the cracks will only deepen in the coming days. It's a lot on their shoulders, and to keep their mind off the stress of what the future holds they throw themself into the fight.

They're so focused on the job at hand that when they do finally decide to take a break, they're oblivious to the company they're keeping until the sound of footsteps behind them are too close for comfort.

Spitting their cigarette over the railing and reaching for the gun in the small of their back, they take half a step and turn around. When their eyes fall on Killbane standing a few feet away and leaning against a table, the only thing they can think is that this some sort of sick _joke_. Out of all the restaurants in Steelport, what are the odds the both of them end up at the same one, at the same time?

The grip on their gun tightens a little. Killbane's eyes flick down to it and back to their face, and slowly he raises his hands up by his shoulders. Whether he's genuinely _surrendering_ , or he's just being an _asshole_ , the Boss can't tell. They hold onto the gun for a few moments more, leveling their shaded gaze across the patio at him until finally he shrugs and drops his hands back down by his sides. He takes another step forward and pulls out a chair, plopping down in it to rest his feet up on the table top and stretch out with his hands behind his head.

Tentatively, the Boss releases the gun. If he was going to _do_ something, they're fairly sure he would have by now. They know there's no other Luchadores in the area, they checked for that before they settled in for dinner.

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” Killbane says lowly. The bass in his voice seems even deeper than usual, and the Boss hates that they _notice_ that.

“I told you before that was a one time thing,” they say. He quirks an eyebrow and his mask creases a little with the motion.

“Who said anything about _that_?” he asks. “I was just pointing out an unlikely... _coincidence._ ” The Boss says nothing in response and instead fishes a fresh cigarette out of the pack and lights it. They take a couple drags off it, drawing the smoke deep into their lungs until it causes chest pains and exhaling forcefully before deciding that whatever Killbane's up too tonight, they want no part of it. They start across the patio, sucking in another breath and stop when they're close enough to blow a lungful of smoke into his face. His eyes narrow a little, and they smirk down at him.

“Surprised to see you out here,” they say.

“And why is that?” he asks. The Boss shrugs and inhales again.

“I thought you had some sort of... _sports thing_ to be preparing for.” The way they downplay Murderbrawl seems to catch his ire, and they notice his lip twitch a little. They can't help but grin and lean down to blow more smoke in his face. “See ya around, _Eddie.”_

Calling him by his real name, they'll think later, is what ends up doing it.

Killbane growls in response and in an instant he manages to pull the Boss towards him and get a firm grip on the back of their neck with his other hand. They drop their cigarette in surprise and fumble for their gun, thinking for a moment he's going to snap their neck right here and now. They have enough time to feel a stab of panic shoot right through their heart and to think about what would become of the Saints without them, especially so close after losing Johnny, before Killbane crashes their mouths together with such force their teeth collide. The Boss lets out a muffled yelp in surprise, and his grip on their neck loosens as he slips his tongue into their mouth.

The Boss's heart is in their throat as their pulse pounds in their ears and for a moment all they can focus on is that he tastes vaguely like cigars and acutely like whiskey. Somewhere in the back of their mind, no doubt the same place that was so easily _ignored_ while under the influence of alcohol, they tell themself that this _can't_ continue. Last time was _excusable_ , and more importantly it was easily _hidden_ from the rest of the Saints.

A second time might not end so _well_.

Even in spite of this, one of their hands finds its way to his chest to run along the section of exposed skin beneath his shirt. Finally he breaks away from them, pulling back to breathe and the Boss takes in a shaky breath. Killbane drops his hand from the back of their neck and his arm from their waist and shifts in the seat to rest his elbows on the chair. The Boss is still partially leaning in his lap, and they recognize his posture for what it is: a chance to end this now before it goes any farther. They wouldn't have thought him the type to offer someone a chance to _back out_ of something like this.

A moment of silence passes with neither one of them moving before Killbane lifts his hands a little.

“Well?” he asks. “You got _somewhere else_ you need to be?”

The Boss's hand is still resting on his chest, and the feeling of his warm skin against the cool breeze blowing across the rooftop is so incredibly _inviting_. It takes effort for them to pull away from him, to stand up straight and take a step back. The wind seems to kick up when they do, rustling the umbrellas hanging over the tables and sending a chill that sinks deep into their spine. They let out an involuntary shiver, and their mind flashes back again to the last time they were around Killbane. Before they can redirect their thoughts, they're thinking about how _warm_ he was and about him slipping his fingers inside them, and the _bruises_ he left on their neck.

They feel a _twinge_ in their stomach at the memory and don't even _try_ to stop themself.

“No,” they breathe.

“No what?” Killbane asks. Whether he's trying to _draw this out_ and start them begging early or is actually making sure the impending situation is well _clarified_ , they're not sure and they don't care.

“No, I don't have anywhere else to be.”

He's out of the chair with a quickness one wouldn't expect from watching him wrestle, and once again he's the one that manages to get the two of them from point A to point B, and inside his building without being noticed. Even without alcohol clouding their head this time, the Boss _still_ isn't quite sure how he does it. They note with a sense of frustration that the least they could do is take _notes_ in case the Saints ever need to break in in the future, but the thought slips from their mind as quickly as it arrived.

It gets buried further when Killbane backs them into the elevator and pops their belt buckle open with two fingers. By the time they reach his penthouse, he's nearly got them cumming into his hand.

This time the two of them don't even make it to his bedroom. They get as far as the dining room when Killbane kicks one of the chairs away and deposits the Boss on the table. He leaves kisses and teeth marks on their neck while tugging their pants and boots off and quickly shifts to undo his own belt.

The last time they had sex, he was slow and _methodical,_ fully intent on teasing them and making them _work_ for any kind of a release. _This time_ , he doesn't bother with such things. As soon as he gets out of his pants, he's pulling their legs apart and positioning himself between them. He rests a forearm on the table top and buries his face in the crook of their neck as he slips inside them with one good shove. The Boss wraps their arms around his neck, fingernails digging into the skin below his collar as they let out a long, throaty groan.

Killbane gives a few experimental thrusts, searching for the right angle before finally settling on one when the Boss hisses out _'yes_ ' and throws their head back against the table. He immediately switches tactics, hitting them as hard and fast as he can and relishing in the way their muscles begin to tighten up around him. The Boss's nails dig into the back of his neck and they can feel his breath against their skin as he pants. The table scrapes against the floor as he shifts and reaches down to push the Boss's legs even farther apart. He grips their thigh hard enough to leave bruises and lets out a deep, growling groan as he cums. The grip they have on the back of his his neck tightens as his last few hard thrusts send them into their own orgasm. Their muscles clench up around him and they can hear him suck in a breath when it happens.

If he wasn't quite done before, he certainly is after that.

For a moment they both stay like that, with him still inside them as they both catch their breath.

Finally, once their muscles have relaxed enough, he pulls himself out of them and backs away from the table. He pulls his pants back up around his waist and moves over to the bar, reaching for a glass and a bottle of whiskey. He pours himself a stiff drink and takes a few sips while leaning against the bar and turning his near-predatory gaze on the Boss.

“Well,” he asks, lifting the glass to his mouth and taking a swallow. “Are you just gonna lay there dripping cum onto my table all night?” The Boss doesn't respond, and he chuckles and knocks back the rest of his drink, watching as they run a hand over their face before finally sitting up.

“If that was all I was getting, I could have gone home alone for that,” they say. Killbane pushes away from the bar and tugs them off the table by the collar of their shirt.

“Who said that was it?” he asks as he leads them across the penthouse and back to the bedroom. He kicks the door shut behind them with his heel and pushes the Boss towards the bed, pausing to strip out of his jacket and shoes. The Boss flops back onto the bed and watches him with half lidded eyes as his shirt and his necklaces join the rest of his clothes on the floor.

He leaves a trail of kisses up their abdomen and chest, and spends an agonizingly long time teasing them with his teeth and his tongue. He leaves pinches here, and scrapes there, and almost _gentle_ touches across their body. He drags it out long enough to get them good and frustrated before finally slipping two of his fingers inside them.

The Boss lets out a deep moan at that and thrusts their hips into his hand as he brushes against the right spot on their vaginal wall. For a moment, they have enough awareness to think that they _hate_ that he gets this reaction out of them, but it's lost when his mouth closes around one of their nipples. Their nails dig into the back of his neck as he leaves a trail of hot kisses back down to their groin. He spreads their labia with two fingers for better access to their clit and goes to work with his tongue.

His mouth is so hot it's almost _searing_ as he runs his tongue in long, flat lines against their clit. They wrap their legs around him and barely notice the material of his mask as their fingers dig into the back of his head. He keeps it up until they're panting and their eyelids are fluttering and only stops when their thighs cinch together uncomfortably tight around him and he can feel the tips of their nails even through his mask.

The rest of the night seems to pass in a pleasure-filled haze and at some point it's as if time itself stops existing. Steelport shines through the windows in Killbane's bedroom and paints them both in a shifting rainbow of colors as they slowly tear the layers of his bed away. The Boss leaves rake marks across his body and calls him god and Killbane leaves bruises everywhere he touches and curses softly in their ears. The war is forgotten by both of them and the entire world is shut out as their ringing phones go unanswered for hours on end.

The Boss wakes up in the morning to the sun shining in their eyes and the scent of Killbane's cologne filling their nose and for a few moments, they're surprised to find themself entirely content with this situation. They know they should get up, collect their things and go, see if they can't sneak out before he wakes up, but it feels like it's been so long since they could just _relax_ instead of waking up and jumping right back into the fray. They roll over onto their stomach, resting their head on his shoulder and letting the heat from his skin sink into them and rationalize that it's doing no harm to enjoy it for a while.

A phone starts ringing somewhere in the penthouse a few minutes later, and he rouses a little after it finally stops. He runs his free hand down over his face, pausing to adjust his mask before turning his head to find them curled up at his side and watching him. Something in the back of his mind tells him that this isn't exactly the position he _wants_ to be in, and for a brief second he wonders if the Boss is holding a gun on him out of his range of vision.

“Surprised you're still here,” he says, voice slightly hoarse. He pulls his arm away from them and sits up, reaching to check the clock on the bedside. He cusses when he sees the time and gets up to make for the bathroom.

“Somewhere you gotta be?” the Boss asks, rolling in the bed to watch him.

“Better late than never, I guess,” he says. The bathroom door shuts behind him, and it takes the Boss another ten minutes to will themself up and out of his bed. They know as soon as they get up and find out how much they missed during the night that time will start again, reality will come back and so will those feelings of _guilt_ they've been trying to stave off.

It takes another five minutes to find their phone and scattered clothes and they scroll through the missed calls and unopened text messages with a budding sense of dread. They plop down on Killbane's couch and light a cigarette, sticking it between their teeth as they tug their boots back on.

They're onto their second smoke of the day by the time he appears in the living room, freshly showered and clothed and still tying his tie as he makes for the kitchen and a cup of coffee.

“I suppose me trying to sneak outta here on my own is gonna end badly, ain't it?” they ask, tilting their head against the back of the sofa.

“Considering the media all but camps on my doorstep?” he asks. “Probably.”

Just as before, he rolls them both out of his building and away from the press in a nondescript truck and drops the Boss off out of sight a few blocks away. He pulls away from the curb as soon as the door shuts, and they watch as the truck disappears around a corner before pulling their phone out to have of their own cars delivered. They head to the nearest stop light to wait on a bench and are halfway through another cigarette when their phone rings.

“ _Where the hell have you been_?” Shaundi asks, and she sounds angry.

“Out,” the Boss says.

“ _Doing what?”_ she snaps. _“We've been trying to get a hold of you all night!_ ”

“I was taking care of business, Shaundi,” they say, tapping ash off their cigarette. “I wasn't aware I had to report into you every time I leave the crib.”

“ _What? You're not_ ,” she says, and her voice softens a little. “ _We- I just got worried, is all. After Johnny...you didn't pick up and I thought...I don't know_.”

The mention of Johnny sends a _pain_ through the Boss's chest. They go silent for a long moment as that feeling of dread blooms full force, and with it breaths of guilt.

“I'm fine, Shaundi,” they say softly. “I just needed a few hours to myself.”

“ _Okay._ ” she says. “ _Just...call me next time, okay_?”

“I will,” they say. “I promise.”

They hang up the phone and grind their boot into the butt of their cigarette and tell themself there won't _be_ a next time. There's no way they can continue this with Killbane, and they have no intention to, whatever ' _this_ ' may be.

Their ride arrives a few minutes later, and despite all the work yet to be done, the Boss kills a few more hours by just speeding idly through the city. It serves to clear their thoughts and their mind, and gets their head back on straight. They pull up to the crib in the late afternoon and head straight to the shower. The water runs hot and steams up the bathroom as they burn the traces of Killbane off their skin and replace it with something _cleaner_ , something _fresher_.

His bruises stay behind, looking in stark contrast to their skin in the mirror and they bite their lip as they brush the tips of their fingers against the grip marks he left on the sides of their neck. If anyone notices them when they meet with the crew in the living room, no one says anything. Even Pierce remains quiet on the subject, and it makes the Boss start worrying that maybe they _know_. Maybe Killbane isn't as slick as he thinks he is, and maybe no one's talking about the elephant in the room because it's big and _green_ and no one knows how to handle it.

They force themself to focus on the situation at hand rather than the ones their mind is making up, and a small bit of relief comes later that night when they take a minute to peruse the news and find no gossip about the Saints _or_ the Luchadores.

Sleep comes to them far too late into the night, and they spend most of the dark hours staring out at the city and trying to keep their mind from drifting back to Killbane. When they do finally sleep, they end up in some hellish wasteland with Johnny cursing them for his death and for their actions in the world of the living, and they wake with a start when the alarm goes off.

The next day is spent at Angel's and it turns out that getting used as human punching bag and flung around like a rag doll does wonders for putting more pressing concerns out of their mind. Angel notices the bruises still tainting their skin when they shrug out of their jacket and stand before him in a tank top, but he says nothing. The Boss was expecting him to _know_ somehow. In some paranoid way they figured since he knows Killbane so well, that he'd just _know_ how those marks ended up on their body and _who_ put them there.

Instead, he adds a few of his own throwing them down to the mat.

The Boss decides to take a new approach to their problem and puts themselves back into their work harder than ever. They run themself ragged and torn doing battle with the other gangs, but the effort pays off. The morale of the Saints improves when they start making better progress with taking the city, and the claiming of Safeword and the act of stealing another stronghold from the Syndicate seems to repair some of the fractures the Boss had noticed within the gang.

Things start running smoothly again, and issues between the Saints and the Luchadores serve to put Killbane back in between the Boss's cross-hairs rather than their legs, and just when it starts looking like the tide is turning in their favor--

\--STAG enters the city.

The arrival of Cyrus Temple and his _goons_ grinds everything to a dead halt, and the stress causes the Boss to have more than one meltdown while training with Angel. They nearly break his fingers one day while he's going over submission and escape moves with them, and they _do_ manage to break his nose on another. He takes both incidents in stride and commends them on their progress while holding an ice pack to his swelling face.

“What's got you so riled up?” he asks. The Boss doesn't answer and turns away, resting heavily on an old pool table.

“STAG,” they finally admit.

“STAG is a lot of military bravado and big guns,” Angel says. “Nothing you can't handle.”

The Boss is quiet for a moment before responding.

“Sure,” they mutter.

The rest of the crew seems as unconcerned about STAG as Angel, and an uneasy feeling settles into the pit of the Boss's stomach. STAG is good, they're _professional_ and they've got as much backing and funding as the US Government decides to give them. Monica Hughes is on a goddamn war path, and the task-force's interference in the city is making it hard for _any_ of the gangs to do business. STAG is the last thing the Boss needed to deal with while still trying to lay siege to a city as big and well-controlled as Steelport, and they begin to miss the days when the Saints were just them, Johnny and the rest of the crew causing trouble on the Row.

What the gang has become now, the prestige and the publicity, it's not what they had intended.

Maybe Johnny was right, maybe they _did_ sell out.

They find themself trying to drown their worries in a familiar club one night, and they keep idly wondering what the chances of running into Killbane again are. The issues with STAG have made their annoyance with him lessen just enough for thoughts of their encounters with him to filter back into their mind. The more they think about him, the more shots they try to block it out with and after a couple of hours and a sizable bar tab they decide to pack it in and head back to the crib.

They're paying more attention to their phone than where they're going on the way out and they don't even notice Killbane until a hand clamps down on their bicep and pulls them into an adjacent room. He slams the door shut with his free hand and grins down at them, white teeth flashing in the neon lights overhead.

“I'm startin' to think you're _stalking_ me,” he says.

“Don't flatter yourself, I was just leaving,” the Boss sneers. He chuckles and lets go of their arm, pushing away from the door and moving over to a bottle of whiskey sitting on a nearby table.

“I thought you liked to party,” he says, pouring a drink.

“I'm a little more hesitant about them since what happened at our last one,” they say. “Speaking of which, _hooker assassins_ , really?” He grins a little over the rim of his glass.

“That wasn't my idea,” he says, taking a swallow. “But from what I've heard, it almost _worked_.” His smug attitude irritates them and the Boss storms forward, closing the gap between them.

“If you _really_ wanna kill me you're gonna have to try a lot harder than that, _Eddie_ ,” they snarl. His eyes narrow beneath the mask and he drops his glass onto the table with the resounding sound of glass on glass.

There's a brief moment of silence before they both burst into movement, the Boss going for the gun at their back and Killbane reaching for them. They end up with their back pushed against the couch and one of his legs between their thighs with the barrel of their gun pressed against his abdomen.

“Well,” he growls, leaning closer until they can smell the alcohol on his breath. “What now, _Boss_?”

The Boss doesn't hesitate. They grin and squeeze the trigger on the gun and when nothing happens, it takes them both a second to figure out what's going on. Killbane looks down at the weapon and blinks once before breaking out into a fit of deep sounding laughter.

The gun is jammed.

What fucking luck.

Killbane bats the gun away with one fist and grabs them by the throat with the other. The Boss clenches a hand around his wrist and raises a leg to try and kick away from him. His fingers dig into their skin and slow the blood flowing up and into their brain and they mentally curse the flush they feel creeping up their neck.

“ _Fuck you_ ,” they hiss.

“Is that an invitation?” he asks. He loosens his grip and leans down, taking their bottom lip between his teeth and tugging on it just slightly. The Boss pauses for just a second before reaching up to put an arm around his neck and pulls him closer, letting his tongue invade their mouth as he drops both his hands to their belt buckle.

“Wait,” they say, pulling away from him and craning their head back. His motions cease and he drops his knee from between their thighs, standing up straighter and regarding them with a steady gaze.

“Cold feet?” he asks.

“I'm not fucking you in the back of a club,” they say. Not when there's the possibility of someone walking in, or cameras catching sight of them. Killbane insists that they just don't know how to have fun, and they ignore his snide jabs as they lead him out of the club. The Boss decides going all the way across the city to his building is going to take too much time, time enough for them to come to their senses about the situation and instead they bring him back to their own turf. The Saints have a penthouse in one of the apartment buildings they bought from the Syndicate, and they know that for the most part it sits devoid of people. For the time being, it's a back up should something happen to their main crib.

Drunkenly stumbling back to his place is one thing, but bringing him back to a building the Saints have fought for crosses a line the Boss had never thought they'd cross. The guilt starts scratching at the back of their mind again, and it takes an awful lot of effort to beat it into submission.

They go straight for the bar as soon as they get inside the penthouse and knock back two more shots of vodka in quick succession. Killbane passes on the offer of booze and whisks them right over to the sofa. They feel their phone vibrating in their pocket before he manages to get them out of their pants, and as the night goes on they forget all about Shaundi and promises previously made.

It's like the last time they were together, everything outside of the two of them seems to melt away and stop existing the longer they go on, even as they pause long enough to stumble through the apartment and up to the bed. The Boss trips on the steps up to the loft, and Killbane grouses at them and simply slings them over his shoulder. The motion elicits a spark of laughter from them.

“Put me down, ya fuckin' cave man,” they say, words slurring close together as they speak. He tosses them down onto the bed and gives them no chance to collect themself before catching their mouth in his. He's got two fingers rubbing between their labia while the Boss dips a hand between his legs and works to get him hard again.

He breaks the kiss and rolls to his back, pulling them with him and ending with them sitting on his thighs. They lean down and leave a trail of kisses and teeth marks across the front of him before running their tongue along the length of his cock. They grip it at the base and suck on the tip, licking away the lingering remains of their own fluid from when he was inside them on the couch. He lets out a deep groan as the Boss takes more of him in their mouth, drawing one leg up and tilting his head back. One of his hands tangles in their hair as their head bobs up and down.

He's content to let this continue until he's satisfied, especially since their _mouth_ seems to have another use than just _shit talking_ , and his pleasured groans turn into annoyed grunts when they suddenly stop and wipe at their mouth. He looks down at them as they pull away from him and slide up a little, using a hand to position him under them and sliding onto his dick with an almost painful slowness. They're _hot_ and _wet_ on the inside, and he sighs as he relaxes back into the mattress. He reaches up and grips their hips on either side as the Boss slides themself up and down on him with the same teasing slowness.

It's not long before the teasing gets to be too much for him, and he rolls them both back over and takes up position between their legs. He looms above them with a solid grip on the headboard and one of their legs hooked around his waist and thrusts inside them as hard as he can. The Boss yelps out a swear and leaves long scratches on one his shoulders.

It must be something about fucking them in Saints territory that gets Killbane even more riled up than usual. He fucks them until every move he makes is as _painful_ as it is _sweet_ , and the Boss can't seem to get enough of it. They dig their nails into him hard enough to draw blood and the action only serves to _encourage_ him further. He reaches down with one hand and thumbs at their clit while thrusting in and out of them, and they swear for a moment they feel their eyes roll into the back of their head as he sets their nerve endings on fire. Everything is _hot_ and _white_ and _tingly_ and he gets them so far gone they're not even aware of him pumping hot cum into them.

When they finally come back around, he's sprawled out on his back next to them and grinning at them. They stare up at him through half lidded eyes for a moment before getting up and crawling back into his lap.

“ _Again_ ,” they breathe, wrapping their arms around his neck and biting at his lip. He growls a little and turns his head away, grabbing their hips and pushing them back a little.

“As much as I'd love to just dive right back into you,” he says, rubbing circles with his thumb on the surface of their skin, “you're gonna have to give me a few minutes...or twenty.”

The Boss makes a noise that sounds like an unsatisfied _whine_ , and he quirks his eyebrows at them in amusement. They mumble something about _piss_ that comes out slurred from a combination of the booze and the sex, and slide off his lap and the bed. They disappear around the corner and he hears the toilet flush a minute later. Water runs at the sink for a moment before they come back to flop on their stomach next to him.

They're not sure when they fall asleep, but when they wake up the next morning he's long gone and the only thing remaining from the previous night are the damp, sticky sheets strewn out across the bed. The Boss showers and checks their phone, and as they listen to the irate messages left by various people expressing annoyance at their disappearing on the gang again, the guilt kicks in full force.

They do two shots before leaving to head back to the main crib, and nothing they do the rest of the day untwists the knot that forms in their stomach.

It's two days later when they're scrolling through their contacts to call Zimos that they notice a new number programmed into the phone under the letter _K_. They pause and stare at it for a moment, trying to figure out when they added it, and tap the screen to bring up the number. There's a note with the contact and when they open it, it simply says:

 

_Until next time._

\--------------------------------------

 _Sneaking out the back door,_  
_Make no sound_  
_Knock me out, knock me out_  
_Saying that I want more, this is what I live for._

 


End file.
